


A Night to Remember

by dingus6000 (loser_lover)



Category: nonfandom
Genre: F/F, Personal Narrative, nonfandom related, personal work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loser_lover/pseuds/dingus6000
Summary: A personal narrative I wrote for school about my prom night with my girlfriend who would break up with me not a month or two later. I just really like it and I feel like the Sappho in me really jumped out.





	A Night to Remember

        Rain poured in crystalline droplets from the heavens like tears from an indigo eye; the same color as the dress I wore and the color my lips would turn to months after this night—the breath pulled from my lungs and my heart shattered—on the day I would die, but I digress.

        The night was cold but the downpour was warm as it pattered against ceiling-high windows and thick-paned skylights; but the thrum of raindrops on glass was drowned out by the thumping bass of some popular song I didn’t know, or care to try and remember, the clack of girls’ heels on linoleum, and the snaps of a camera lens photographing smiling faces and discarded stilettos at one of the best nights of my life; none of which I was too focused on, though.

        The dance floor was crowded: a sea of teens dressed up to the nines, the crowd pulsing and bouncing to the beat, like a wild ocean on a stormy night.  The mass was dense and trying to swim through it was dangerous, with bouncing feet ready to land on yours any moment or flying fists, elbows and hands that were level to my face. The fear of getting punched, elbowed or slapped was enough to keep me and my group from the center of the tide pool. With each song, the crowd expanded and ebbed, groups and stragglers alike flowing to what little space there was between tables.

        I had danced, of course, bouncing and writhing along with the others in an incongruous jive of flailing limbs and bodies; it didn’t matter if I knew the song or not. It felt like I was dancing all night, only pausing at an unfamiliar song to hobble over to my table to take a sip of punch before hopping back up at the first notes of a new melody to run back to the dance floor, like many other students around me. This of course meant that:

        1) My feet hurt like I was walking on hot coals. Blisters began to form on my pinky toes not even a quarter way through the night thanks to the new heels—chunky 5-inch suede platforms that I adored—that I had purchased not a week before, picked special for this night and thus, not really broken in.

and

        2) I was sweating like I had just run a marathon. I’m a naturally warm person and it would make sense, what with all the dancing surrounded by equally warm people, but this was a bit ridiculous.

        The only thing that could distract me from my suffering was _her_. _God_ she was beautiful and all my pain and exhaustion was washed away simply by looking at her or being the recipient of a smile or laugh, most likely due to one of my famously awful jokes, but she loved them nonetheless.

        Her laugh was beautiful, it was one of the many things that made her _her_ and everything about her was gorgeous to me. It was warm and bubbly, like her, a joyous sound that rippled from deep within her that always managed to cheer me up on the worst of days. And in that ballroom, it was the only thing I heard; all the noise around me would fall to an unintelligible hum and her laugh would ring clear every time it bubbled up from her throat.

        That night she was the most magnificent creature I had ever seen and ever would see. I’m not a religious person, but looking at her that night? It was like I was looking at an angel. But that term only underestimates her delicate beauty. That night, I was a poet, she, my muse, and I found all the dictionaries in the universe could never hold the right words to describe how my heart swelled at each glance.

_Darling, you look divine!_

_If I were to present your picture in heaven,_

_So many angels would hide their face in shame._

_By unknown_

        Her long, soft hair, finer than any silk, fell in loose ringlets down to her waist, gently draping over her shoulder like a shawl any time she would lean in to whisper something to me and only me, a secret shared between lovers.

        The light, flowy fabric of her dress would flare out around her and twirl in time with the music when I spun her to the romantic melody of the slow songs. The little sequins sewn onto her bodice twinkled and shone, but their beauty would be put to shame whenever she looked at me; not even the stars in the sky could glow even a fraction as bright as her eyes could. Dressed in white and rose gold, a Greek goddess, and I in deep navy blue, her devotee, she was the stars to my night sky.

        And her face; it was like the sun — bright and golden, like cognac amber, my heart trapped within — and if I looked too long, I was sure to go blind. Her eyes, large and doe-like, lined with soft, wispy eyelashes, were dusted in a light gold shimmer that flickered in the dim light with every blink. Her irises, the color of a sea, bottomless and vast, scared me; they shook me because I feared if I stared to deeply, I would fall in and never want to swim back up for air — I still haven’t reached the surface. But when she smiled, my fear subsided at the sight of the soft crinkles at the corners of her eyes and I found I wanted to be there, with her, until the smile lines became permanent.

        By god, speaking of her smile. Her lips, always soft, were pink and silken, coated in a layer of gloss and iridescent glitter that sparkled when she breathed. They were my favorite part, not just of her outfit, but of her. Kissing her was like finding water in a vast desert, and I, a parched man, couldn’t get enough.

        It was mesmerizing, watching her dip and twirl to each note, and wherever she touched me burned. It was a comfortable heat, though, and I wished I still had it’s warmth on many a  cold, lonely night. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, either. When I was watching her, dancing and singing along, my smile was wide and bright; even when I was alone, a grin was never not on my face. I felt like I was on top of the world, no weight on my shoulders or in my heart. It was as if all the pain and sadness was washed away and I was able to fly, the music and her voice like the wind beneath my wings. I don’t think I even breathed then. It was like I was in a dream, the only thing grounding me back in reality being the throbbing pain in my feet and the sweat trickling down my back.

        Nonetheless I shall cherish that night forever. I hold it deep within my heart and I don’t think I shall ever forget the night spent in her arms, my night with the stars all around me.

Most certainly a night to remember.


End file.
